#pregnancy drabble

[rose-tinted-glasses671]

Let The Light In

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem reader

warnings: mentions of abuse and human trafficking

summary: your husband is finally back home from a mission, but he's brought home a little girl, and he's struggling with what he saw.

word count: 3356

read pt.2

a/n: This is my first attempt at a fanfic but im excited about this. The idea came from one of my many pre-sleep scenarios that i had a strong desire to put on paper. Also, I wrote simon to not be emotionally closed off because: a) thats how i imagine he would be and b) i love an emotionally mature man. okay thats it. enjoy!

You had been preparing yourself a glass of ice water before bed when you heard the beeping of the electronic keypad from your front door. There was only one person besides you who could unlock the high-tech security system that secured your house: Simon. A flood of excitement rushed through you as you put your glass down and ran to the front door, giddy with happiness at your husband’s arrival. You knew he was due back home soon, but as it usually went with military deployments, the dates were always tentative.

But, to your surprise, when the door opened, you didn’t just see your hulking, 6’4 husband at the door, but also a little girl, no older than maybe seven years. Your eyes bounced between the two as you saw Simon guide the girl through the door; the little girl who looked terrified out of her mind as her eyes darted around the dark entryway. As she began to cower away from the darkness, Simon turned on the light that illuminated the foyer, finally bringing you into his view.

His eyes jumped to you in an instant, an intense melancholy and fatigue written all over his face. That’s also when you heard a faint sniffle from the little girl, and when you looked down, your heart broke at the sight of her. Bruises littered her arms and legs, all in different stages of healing, along with countless cuts, scars, and what looked like cigarette burn marks. She had on tattered clothes and shoes, but what really sent you over the edge was the black eye that marred her right eye.

Both your motherly instincts and your doctor training kicked into overdrive. Being five-months pregnant was putting you into protective mama bear mode, and your ER doctor training was telling you to get this girl to a hospital to see if she had any broken bones or internal bleeding. Ultimately, you took a deep breath and decided the girl just needs to feel safe right now.

“Hi there,” you chirped, slowly approaching the little girl, cautious of the fact that she was extremely scared and was thus probably sensitive to sudden gestures. The girl brought her gaze up off the floor to look at you, distrust and fear still evident in her eyes. You then introduced yourself to her, but when you asked for her name, she remained quiet.

“She hasn’t spoken since we rescued her,” Simon spoke up for the first time. “It’s gonna take the boys a while to find her family without her name, so I thought…” That she’d be safe with us tonight.

You nodded before asking, “Did the medic check her out?”

“Just barely, once we got onto the plane,” Simon replied. “I came here as soon as we landed back at base.”

“Okay,” you said, finally turning your attention back to the girl. You got down to her eye-level so as not to make her feel anymore threatened. “How ‘bout I make you a nice PB&J, and then we can get you cleaned up and into a fresh pair of pajamas?” you asked, keeping your tone light and how you usually did with your younger patients.

The girl continued looking at you, but remained silent. After a moment, you asked, “What if I brought the food to you here?”

The tense line of the girl’s shoulders relaxed a little, and some of the tightness in her face dissipated. You took that as a confirmation and smiled softly, nodding your head again.

“Stay with her,” you said to Simon, before rushing into the kitchen and hastily putting together the sandwich. With a plate of food and a glass of water in your hands, you went back to the foyer, both Simon and the girl standing in the exact same place as where you’d left them. You handed the girl her food and placed the water next to her, letting her get comfortable and do things at her own pace.

You thought in the meantime you could speak with Simon, but when you turned your head, he wasn’t in the foyer anymore. Not wanting to leave the girl alone, you stayed with her as she ate, continuing to talk to her in the hopes of making her feel safer and more comfortable.

The girl ate slowly, taking big gulps of water in between bites, and your heart continued to break at her timidness, not daring to think of the kind of atrocities she’d probably had to face in her short life.

After a while, with food in her belly and her thirst quenched, the girl finally gave you a small smile, letting you take her upstairs. You prepared a warm bath for her in the guest bathroom, putting in salts and adding in bubbles so that she could soak her bruises and maybe get some relief for the night.

You had some of your niece’s clothes in the dresser, and although she was a bit older than this little girl, the oversized pajamas would have to do for tonight. You’d go get her some new clothes first thing in the morning.

“I’ve left a towel and some clothes for you on the counter here once you’re done,” you instructed the girl, placing the items next to the sink for her to see. She nodded, and you turned to leave so she could get to it, but then she pulled on your shirtsleeve. When you turned back to her, she was pointing to the spot in front of the bathroom door, small grunts leaving her throat as she tried to voice something to you.

Initially, you didn’t get what she was saying, thinking she was trying to point something out to you that you didn’t see. But when understanding dawned, your heart melted a little. “You want me to wait out there for you?” you asked.

The girl’s eyes lit up as she furiously nodded her head, and you chuckled, happy that you were able to gain just a little bit of her trust. You went and stood in the spot the girl indicated, and she closed the door behind her, though not all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

You went and rested on the chair in the corner of the room, your feet starting to get sore as they tended to at this point in your pregnancy.

Time passed sluggishly as you scrolled on your phone, the minutes blending together and a wicked tiredness engulfing you from head to toe. You didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl needed something, so you slowly started dozing off in the chair when you finally heard the squeak of the bathroom door. You looked up to the see the girl walking out, her head swiveling and catching sight of you. She approached you with a hairbrush in her hands and the legs of the pajama bottoms dragging behind her.

“Let me fix those for you,” you said as you bent down and cuffed the pants to fit the girl better. Once you did so, she handed you the hairbrush, silently asking you to detangle her hair for her. It was going to be a feat because a lot of her hair was matted, and you knew you were going to have to be very gentle. The girl turned around and you thought she was going to sit on the floor in front of you, but instead she planted herself on your lap. A rush of warmth and affection flooded your body, the immense need to protect the girl overtaking your senses.

While you were brushing her hair, the girl looked around the room, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When her eyes landed on the stack of magazines on the side table next to you, she froze, and then abruptly stood up, startling you.

“I’m not done-“ you began, but then saw that the girl was pointing at the magazine on the top of the stack.

“Oh that’s a magazine. My favorite one, actually ” you said in reference to the old issue of Harper’s Bazaar she was pointing at. But then the girl started aggressively tapping the cover, so you leaned in closer to get a better look and saw that she was specifically pointing at Harper’s.

“Is your name Harper?”

She aggressively nodded again, in the way she does when you understand what she’s saying.

You finally had her name, and you felt much better now that you knew the girl was feeling comfortable enough to tell it to you.

“Harper,” you said, and she beamed up at you, her smile brighter than any other she had given you tonight.

With this happy revelation, you finished brushing Harper’s hair and then finally tucked her into bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

You closed the door behind you with a soft thud as you left the room. As happy as you were with the progress you’d made with Harper, you were equally concerned for your husband. Obviously, what he’d seen had affected him, and all you wanted was to be there for him, but you and Simon both knew Harper took precedence in this situation.

Every second Simon spent looking at the girl sent him into a spiral of unspeakable sadness and anger. He knew that the little girl’s captives were dead, and that they couldn’t bring her anymore harm, but that didn’t lessen the red that clouded his vision, or dull the melancholy he felt.

Simon had to leave the room as soon as he saw the girl was safe and being cared for by you. Of course, he felt bad leaving his pregnant wife to look after a little girl he had just brought into their house, but he was spiraling and he didn’t know what to do.

Blindly, he went to the alcohol bar in the corner of the living room and grabbed his favorite bottle of Bourbon and a rocks glass. He poured himself two fingers of the liquor, breaking the promise he made to himself to not drink while you were pregnant. He was abstaining as an act of solidarity since he knew how much you missed your wine, but these circumstances called for a little bit of medicine.

Simon then found himself pouring another two fingers of the liquid, and then another, before deciding to cool it—albeit with much difficulty. He couldn’t leave you caring for a little girl and an inebriated husband.

He couldn’t understand what compelled him to bring the girl home with him, why her appearance and disposition brought him so much anguish. Except he did; he understood that he saw so much of the broken boy he used to be in that little girl. It made him want to throw up.

The moment Simon laid eyes on the bruised and battered girl in that shit hole of a basement, he was transported back to his childhood. Visions of belts and fists and blacks and blues clouded his mind like a thick fog on a summer morning.

Simon’s teammates tried talking to him, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, but to no avail. The world around him was buzzing, almost like the TV static of an old CRT. And he craved nothing more than to fall into the void of numbness.

“Simon?” Your voice broke through the darkness of his mind as you came to stand in front of him, soft and careful and just what he needed to hear. Your hand came up to rest on his cheek, and just that simple touch gave him a world of comfort. He leaned into your palm, bringing his hands up to your hips and gently tugging you towards him until you were straddling his seated form.

Simon knew that you were the only person in the world who could keep him grounded in the present, bring him back from the scariest depths of his wretched mind, and so tonight he was going to be selfish and take all the comfort that you’d be willing to give him.

Feeling a tightness in his throat and a stinging in his nose, Simon brought you impossibly closer and buried his face in your neck.

You held your husband, feeling his body shake as he was wracked with silent sobs. Simon wasn’t one to hold back how he was feeling from you—you both had worked too hard on communicating your emotions to each other for all that to be taken back now—but you had only ever seen him cry once before: the day you got married. And that too was only a single tear before he composed himself.

“You wanna tell me what you’re feeling?” you asked gently, letting him know you’re here to talk without making him feel pressured to do so.

When Simon continued to just hold you, you didn’t press the matter, presuming he didn’t want to discuss it right now. But eventually, he sat back, keeping a firm hold on your waist while finally bringing his blood-shot eyes to you.

“When we raided those houses tonight, the last thing I expected was to find little girls and boys chained up in a decrepit basement like rabid animals,” Simon began, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed away, lost in the memory of the night before. “The mission was supposed to be a simple bust, something with illegal weapons.” He shook his head. “But human trafficking?”

It sickened Simon to think of all the other operations they were probably running that would take him months, if not years, to bust.

“When I saw the girl,” Simon continued, talking about Harper, “For a second…I saw myself in her. She was the most severely injured out of all the kids, and somehow, I just knew it was because she had been fighting her captives tooth and nail.”

He then shook his head again with a scoff. “I don’t know…I just had this visceral need to protect her.”

You didn’t try to analyze Simon’s feelings, because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t his therapist, you were his wife. So you nodded in understanding and brought your arms around him again, resting your cheek on the crown of his head.

“You did the right thing bringing Harper here while they look for her family. She could use a stable environment right now,” you said.

“Harper? Is that her name?” Simon questioned, and you beamed down at him.

“Yeah, she told me upstairs.”

“She spoke to you?”

You shook your head no. “Pointed to an old issue of Harper’s Bazaar I had laying out,” you chuckled.

“Hmm.”

You watched as Simon got lost in his head again.

“Listen to me,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “Harper’s safe now. She’s here, and we’ll take care of her for as long as needed before she goes back to her family.” You took Simons hands, which were still holding your waist, and brought them to your front, interlocking your fingers with his. “She has been through something traumatic. And it will take time, but she will bounce back. I can see the fight in her.”

Simon contemplated your words, thinking back to the fight Harper had put up when he tried to help her, thinking he was another bad man trying to hurt her. She had cowered at the sight of him, especially scared because of the skull plate mask he wore. At that understanding, he took it off, and explained to her gently that they were there to save her. She had reluctantly accepted help, though not from him. A female sergeant had interjected and further calmed her down, gaining enough of her trust to get her to the evac plane.

Harper was jumpy and sensitive to the loud noises around her, living in a perpetual state of fear until he brought her to you. He knew if anyone could give her the care she needed, it was his wife.

“Maybe,” Simon mused. “It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be fine, it’s that the road there is unfathomably difficult and just as equally traumatizing.”

You nodded your head, knowing Simon was speaking from experience. You wouldn’t diminish his past by pretending that you understood what he was going through. You just had to pull him out of this downward spiral.

“That’s why having a support system is so important. And she’ll have that in us for as long as is allowed,” you said.

You smoothed a thumb across Simon’s cheek, pained at the anguish radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, but you would do everything in your power to provide him solace.

And Simon noticed, saw how much you reassured him and tried to give some peace of mind with small touches and understanding glances.

After weeks away from you, and especially after the events of the day before, he needed to kiss you, to feel the physical connection. It was gentle at first, just a soft brush of his lips against yours. But it morphed into something deeper at your small moans and whimpers.

Oh, how Simon loved the noises you made for him, and he’d die before he let them be someone else’s. He’d die before he let you go.

“I love you,” Simon whispered as he slightly pulled away, grazing his thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. The love Simon had for you was beyond what regular words had the capacity to explain, and to sic the English language on it would be a disservice. But he made do with the simplest ones, hoping you felt the power lying underneath them.

You smiled, knowing that he didn’t have to say it for you to feel it. There wasn’t a time in your years together where you didn’t feel loved by him. You could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, at the possessive way he held you at any given moment, by the tone of his voice when he talked to you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back.

You spent the next couple of hours just talking, updating him on everything he missed during his absence. Work drama, doctor’s visits, an impromptu trip you took with your sister when you were feeling lonely. Everything you both could talk about, you did talk about.

These were your favorite moments with him, the quiet nights where you could just enjoy each other’s presence. You could move to the ends of the earth with Simon, the freezing tundra or the blazing desert, and they would still feel like home as long as he was with you.

After a while, when your eyes got droopy and frequent yawns interrupted your conversation, Simon gathered you up in his arms and took you to bed.

He desperately wanted to fuck you, feel that ultimate connection with you, but he saw that you were too tired for all that. This pregnancy was taking its toll on you, and he regretted the times he couldn’t be there to help you through it.

“Life’s too short to have regrets,” you had told Simon before he went on his most recent mission, after he had voiced his remorse at not being with you at your most vulnerable. You had been sad about his departure—you never stopped being sad—especially because you’d been blessed in that he hadn’t been deployed for most of your pregnancy. But such was the life of a military wife, having to see your spouse leave to go on dangerous missions and wondering if those were your last moments together.

Those kinds of thoughts weren’t worth your brain-space, you told yourself. But your anxiety made that hard.

Nonetheless, you thanked your lucky stars that Simon was back with you now, tightly holding onto him in bed.

You went on to sleep peacefully, feeling Simon’s protective body curled around yours. And although sleep usually eluded him, tonight, Simon finally got a good night’s rest with you in his embrace.

#simon riley #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod #mw2 #pregnancy drabble #x female reader

[m-ayo-o]

18+ pregnancy ; husband kento

Thinking of the moment Nanami Kento makes you his wife, carries you into your bedroom and tells you he's going to give you his kids...

You've been begging him, but he wanted to wait.

And now, on your wedding night, he's making it his only mission to get you pregnant.

"Again-" he's panting, stripped bare of his suit.

Your first few rounds, he kept your dress on.

But now it's off, he claims your whole body till you're covered in a thin sheen of sweat- you look ethereal.

"My angel-"

And he insists he's gotta keep going.

How many times has he cum?

You've lost count...

"One more--"

He's running on pure instinct.

Adrenaline.

Lust.

His muscles flex and his body has never looked more

godly

He stops when you can't continue.

"K-Kento-- ple-ease"

He doesn't realise how weak you sound till it's too late.

He pulls out and tilts your body up, to keep it in.

Then, in that same position, he lowers his mouth to your clit and makes you cum till you pass out.

He doesn't let you leave the bed in the morning without another round, finally satisfied when he sees that positive test by the end of your honeymoon.

#kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #18+ content #female reader #kento #nanami kento #nanami drabbles #nanami x reader #nanami smut #hubby kento <3 #tw: pregnancy #1am thoughts

[willowser]

after you and katsuki have the "baby talk", you're being wrapped up in him in bed and your toes are curled and you can feel the nerves tingling even in the tips of your fingers and you're shuddering through the aftershocks of a GREAT orgasm and he's so close and fucking you so deeply and lovingly and he sits up suddenly, back on his knees, to ask—

"'kay, 'm not," he's breathing so hard, skin tan and gleaming with sweat, and you don't know if he notices, but his hands are shaking when he rests them on your thighs. "'m not pullin' out, right?"

you try to swallow and your throat is dry, the nerves in your belly buzzing for a different reason. "yeah," you breathe, shifting your hips absently, yearning for the friction when he hisses and holds you still. "i mean, unless you...want to."

"d'you want me to?"

and despite the fact that you just had this conversation—you feel shy, suddenly, a little flustered at the thought that he's, essentially, putting a baby in you.

but katsuki swallows hard and wets his lips and he's flushed, in the low light of your bedroom. it could be from all the activity, sure, but his own end is coming a lot sooner than it usually does and you have an idea why that might be.

"no," you tell him, honestly, "not really."

before he can finish letting out his sharp exhale, he's back on you, cradling your face in his hands as he speaks, breathless, against your lips. "fine by me."

(and it doesn't take much more than that.)

#*after you have the baby talk=approx. thirteen minutes after #we're three days into jan. whoops #this doesnt count as a drabble hush hush it's just a silly lil thought 😌 #i think it takes a long time for him to be ready to have the baby talk #and once he IS ready he's READY ykwim 😏😏😏 #cw pregnancy #??????? #cw children #????? #just to be safe 😌🙏🏼✨️ #cw breeding #??????????? #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: domestic bakugou

[joelsgreys]

softness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?”

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born. 

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales. 

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate. 

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #tw pregnancy #tw childbirth #tw premature birth

[buckyalpine]

Snacks and midnight

Imagine Bucky finding his adorably, heavily pregnant girl perched onto kitchen counter rummaging for snacks like a little gremlin in the middle of the night. He’d woken up, reaching over the bed to cuddle you only to find it empty. He snorted when he swiped his hand over the sheets feeling bits of crumbs left over from your secret stash of snacks. He rubbed his eyes, noting there was a trail of evidence that led out of the bedroom, the faint sound of crunching carrying down the hall.

Bucky swung his legs over the bed, trudging towards the source of the sounds, his eye growing wide at the sight before him in the kitchen.

“Oh my god”

You had crawled onto the counter, knees perched on the marble top, digging through the cupboards with your hands deep in a box of Oreos. You were too busy with your scavenging for snacks to hear the soldier walk in, huffing when you noticed there was only one box of Dunkaroos left.

“What you up to babygirl" Bucky cooed, quietly wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you securely when you squeaked in surprise. You gave him a sheepish smile, leaning back into his hold while still scanning the contents of your spread; chips, chocolate and various sour candies all covering the kitchen.

"I was hungry" You shrugged innocently while Bucky shook his head, making sure you couldn't squirm around after getting caught in such a ridiculous position. "And so was Bucky jr"

"Bucky jr. told his mama to sneak into the kitchen like a mouse and crawl onto the counters?"

"I didn't wanna wake you and I couldn't reach" You rubbed your swollen belly for emphasis, giving him a pout when he cocked an eyebrow.

"Come down from there you little gremlin, I'll talk to my son about this later" Bucky gave your butt a light pat before scooping you up an carrying you back to bed, kissing the crumbs that clung into your bottom lip. "I'll buy you all the snacks you want first thing in the morning, how does that sound?"

"Including Dunkaroo's? I think Sam ate them all and he just likes the frosting"

"I'll buy Dunkaroo's"

"And chips? I need something salty"

"I'll get you chips babydoll"

"And donuts?" You batted your lashes at him knowing you hardly needed to, he was already a puddle of mush for you and your growing belly.

"Alright bunny" He chuckled, carrying you in his arms, loving the way you tucked your face into his neck with a content sigh. He gently laid you down, making sure you were comfy and fast asleep before shuffling down the bed and lifting you t-shirt up, eyes narrowed at your belly, his voice a low whisper.

"Now. Let's talk about your dietary choices and why your have your mama climbing the house like spider boy at 3:03am"

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes pregnancy kink #bucky x pregnant!reader #bucky barnes x pregnant reader #pregnancy kink #bucky x pregnant reader #bucky x pregnant reder #bucky fluff #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky x f reader #marvel fluff #avengers fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanmix #bucky imagine #bucky drabble #soft bucky #bucky x pregnant!reader

[redskyvenus]

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 ⟡ TOJI FUSHIGURO

content warnings: non-curse AU, sfw/fluff, bf!toji x fem reader, mentions of food, late period, pet names, pregnancy, suggestive nsfw comment (it’s toji c’mon) | wc: 0.5k

notes: happy birthday to the love of my life <3 just a short little drabble to celebrate my husband’s special day! not proofread, reblogs/comments are appreciated

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“Princess? I’m home…” The front door resounds with a hearty thud and you hear Toji’s voice echo through the large hallway.

“They ran out of the caramel sea salt flavor you wanted, so I brought the strawberry cheesecake instead. Hope that’s okay.” As Toji enters the shared bedroom, he finds you sitting on the bed folding laundry.

When you finally look up at your tall boyfriend, his captivating green eyes melt into yours. Toji’s broad smile turns into a pout upon seeing your disappointed face as he holds up the ice cream tub.

“I’ll go there again tomorrow, promise.”

Before you can process his words, tears well up in your eyes and quiet sobs escape you. "Hey, hey, don’t cry, baby.” Sitting beside you on the crisp white sheets, Toji strokes the back of your head. “What’s wrong? Was I gone too long?"

“Nothing, Toji. I’m just sensitive today; my period is late. Hormones are a mess, as usual.” You sigh as he wipes away your tears, his warm lips showering your dampened cheek with tender kisses. Calloused fingers soothingly caress your face.

“Do I need to eat you out again?” He chuckles, teasingly. “I’m still hungry,” he adds, seductively licking his scarred lips.

“No,” you laugh airily as his big hands wrap around your waist. "Today's all about you, birthday boy." You playfully slap his cheek before giving it a kiss. “Wanna watch a movie before the countdown starts?”

“Sure, but no more Twilight. Please,” he begs humorously, switching on the tv.

You huff at his comment, folding your arms over each other in mock disappointment. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome; otherwise I would’ve traded you for someone who doesn’t complain about watching Twilight every New Year’s Eve.

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

As the clock strikes midnight, bright fireworks light up the skies and a long, steamy kiss is shared. “Happy New Year, beautiful. I love you.” He whispers lustfully against your glossy lips.

“I love you too, Toji.” Pulling away, you quickly grab a neatly wrapped gift box from underneath the bed. “Here, take it.” Giggles escape you as you nervously start to fiddle with your fingers.

“What’s this? Another gift?!”

“Just open it.”

Toji unwraps it skillfully, eyes widening in surprise as he holds the pregnancy test. "Fuck. Did you test positive for Covid again?" he exclaims in shock.

You shake your head, bursting into laughter. "No, idiot. There's something else in there.”

His hands rummage through the box, and he discovers a pair of tiny, beige baby socks under the wrapping. Holding them up in awe, he stammers, “Wait— does this mean y-… you’re pregnant?”

His heart swells, and a tear of joy glistens in the corner of his eye.

A radiant smile graces your face, nodding slowly. “WE’RE GONNA HAVE A BABY TOGETHER!” Toji proudly exclaims, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of surprise and sheer pride.

Without hesitation, he lifts up your shirt and gently kisses your stomach, laying down to rest his head. “This is why you were throwing up so much these past few days—the stomach flu turns out to be our little brat instead.” Toji sniffles while lovingly rubbing your belly.

“I can’t believe Megumi is gonna be a big brother.” You whisper softly as your fingers glide through his black, silky strands.

“Do you wanna tell him or should I?”

#‘☁️ .𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 #ghostqueues #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk drabbles #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji fushiguro fluff #cw pregnancy #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro smut #dilf toji #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #toji thirst

[narumi-gens]

dreams aventurine x f!reader

18+ minors/blank/ageless blogs dni, 2.1 spoilers, pregnancy/parenthood

aventurine has never thought of himself as a man who dreams of the future, not beyond a certain point. but there's something about you that makes him doubt himself.

because when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, he can't help himself. he thinks about what would happen if he didn't pull out and cum across your ass, your tits, or your stomach, painting your skin in white spurts like he usually does. he thinks about what would happen if he buried himself deep enough for you to feel him in your throat and spilled himself inside of you for once.

what if he didn't climb off of you as soon as he caught his breath. he thinks about what it would be like if he instead stayed there even as he softened, cradled between your thighs, while your arms wrapped around his trembling form to hold him close, your fingers gently running through his sweaty strands, your touch alone doing more to calm his mind than an orgasm ever could.

there are times when he allows himself to imagine beyond even that, but only in his weakest moments when he decides to spend the night, always under the pretense of the late hour, or the bad weather, or how comfortable the bed he bought you is. it's a pretense that you see through, but never challenge him on as you know that doing so would make him leave.

it's only once he's sure that you're deep asleep and he can turn his unguarded gaze to your features in the dark that he dares to let his mind wander beyond the bounds he normally sets. he imagines your stomach swelling as the months pass, of your hand grabbing his to press his palm to your belly to feel the fluttering of new life from within.

he imagines a small bundle pressed to your bare chest, skin-to-skin. you're crying, but so is the newly born infant that you hold so dear. so is he. sometimes, the sunlight shines through the windows of the hospital room, and other times the rain is deafening against the glass.

likewise, sometimes when the baby in your arms opens their eyes to take in the world for the first time, their color mirrors yours. but more often than not, it's his own pink and blue irises looking back at him, promising a life of good luck.

he imagines the feeling of a small palm pressed flat against his own much bigger one, as a young, tiny voice stumbles over the words he tries to guide them through.

he pictures the smile on your face, both adoring and soft, as you watch with tear-filled eyes as he teaches your child the blessing of their people.

as long as you are alive, the blood of the avgin will never run dry.

no matter how many years have passed since he was taken from sigonia in chains, he'll never forget his sister's final words to him. but when he looks at you, when he's near you, when he's inside you, they feel like more than just a memory.

it feels like she's speaking to him across the years, to him now, trying to guide him towards this single future with you instead of any of the infinite other futures he bets everything on.

maybe, if he chose to listen to her, there could be another avgin for gaiathra to bless. maybe, if he ever chose to give in to his weakness, to your warmth, to your softness, to your love, the avgin wouldn't have to live and die with him.

#I AM A MESS AFTER FINISHING 2.1 #literally wrote down that line about the blood of the avgin for future use as soon as it came up in game #this is the future use #tw parenthood #tw pregnancy #aventurine x reader #aventurine angst #aventurine drabble #hsr x reader #hsr angst #hsr drabble #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail angst #honkai star rail drabble #mel writes

[peterparkersnose]

Hairspray

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: pregnancy, before the outbreak, established relationship with joel, sarah is a little snitch, denial, age gap (not really specified), descriptions of childbirth, money insecurity, 2003 references

a/n this was too good to give up. lets pretend that the outbreak never happened and the miller’s got to live happily ever after :)

summary Sarah finds Y/N’s hidden pregnancy tests

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read time: 6 mins 14 seconds

The phone was new. Joel had installed it a few weeks ago. No more cord! Your opposite hand felt awkward not having something to fidget with while your sister told you the horror stories of her giving birth. Something Mandy had brought up numerous times after confiding in her that you were pregnant.

It was your first; you were in your mid-20s. War was happening overseas, the world seemed to be going to shit. What a perfect time to bring a child into the world, huh? Your husband would be ecstatic, you just knew it. But the mere thought of something growing inside of you made you sick. “And then the feet came out instead! Ripped me open like-” You jumped a little. Facing the front door, you didn’t hear your husband come in from the back. His hands wrapped around your stomach as your shoulders pressed against his chest as your sister went on about telling you how her third kid cost her sixteen stitches.

A sharp gasp came from your mouth. “Are you alright? Is it the baby?” your sister yelled from the phone. Panicked, you quickly said your goodbyes to your older sister, assuring her everything was alright. You decided to give in to the kisses Joel was placing on your neck.

“What was she going on about now? Babies? Please tell me she’s not having another one.” Joel groaned. “Nope. Nine was enough for her,” you sarcastically answered. Four nieces and five nephews were enough for you to handle. Sarah enjoyed having kids her age to play with, but Uncle Joel was getting a bit too old for the rough play the younger ones enjoyed.

“What time is it?” you asked him, grabbing at his wrist. His hands were placed on your stomach almost like he knew. His watch read a little before three. “Sarah?” you asked him, swaying with him slowly. “Tommy’s coming over and we’re going to go work on a job,” he sighed.

 “Again? Joel-”

“I’m sorry, It’s a quick one. Just a little steel door frame and I’ll be home late for dinner. I promise,” he said, kissing you on the cheek. You would need more cash once the baby came.

“I’ll go get her.” you sighed, but not in an angry way. You loved your stepdaughter more than anything in the world. You have known her since she was a small girl and have gotten along with her since the day you met her. She is going to be the best big sister.

Joel handed you the truck keys. Tommy’s car beeped in the driveway. “Give Tommy my love,” you called to Joel as you heard the screen door shut. --- A mainstream pop song quietly played in the truck as you waited in line at Sarah’s middle school. Parents were eager to leave and the San Antonio traffic was bound to be crazy on a Friday afternoon. You spotted your curly-haired stepdaughter as she left the school doors with some friends. You recognized a few from the sleepover she had last week. “Do you have any hairspray?” she asked, throwing her backpack in the back seat. “Yes?”

“Perfect.” Sarah responded. “May I ask why?” “Tiffany and Ashley gave me the recipe for a new oobleck!”

Sarah excitedly waved a loose-leaf piece of paper with a sparky pink gel pen scribbled all over the paper in her stepmom's face. “Hairspray is the main ingredient,” she explained, going over all the ingredients she needed. You smiled to yourself, carefully exiting the middle school parking lot as Sarah rambled about her day.

Sarah burst into the house, setting her backpack down and heading straight towards the kitchen. “Do we have any… flour?” she asked, reading off her list. “Red jar, babes.” you stated the obvious. The flour had been in there for years. “And the hairspray?” She asked. You sat down on the couch, fatigued by what you assumed was your pregnancy. Rubbing your temples, you replied, “Under my sink.”

Sarah burst into the bathroom, whipping open the cabinet door under your sink. In her excitement, the jolting movement of the door opening vaulted the zip-loc bag of pregnancy tests you had taped to the top of the cabinet out on the floor. Confused at first, she held up one of the blue sticks. Then she got it. “Y/N?” she yelled from the bathroom. Sarah was old enough to know what these were, and what two lines meant. Once she realized she was holding a stick of what you peed on, she threw it back in the pile of the rest of them sprawled out on the floor.

Sighing, you kicked your feet back on the ground. You had just gotten comfortable when Sarah called for you.

“Hm?” you asked, causally walking into your bedroom. Your tired state seemed to do a complete 180 when you saw Sarah on the ground with your tests. You froze, unsure of what to say to her. Rapidly blinking your eyes a few times to stop tears, you realized that there was no going back from this. Without a single word spoken you crouched down, collected the pregnancy test strips, and put them back in the bag. Seeing the loose pieces of tape, you used them to adhere the bag back where it was. You handed Sarah the red printed bottle of your hairspray.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked cautiously, sitting at the edge of the bathtub. “A-are they yours?” she anxiously asked. A small laugh came from you. “Yes,” you smiled. “I’m going to be a sister?” she asked you. You shook your head yes.

“Does Dad know?”

The world seemed to blur a bit when she asked that. You could feel your heartbeat increase at the thought. “No. Not yet.” “What!” Sarah gasped. “How long have you known?” “About three weeks.” “Three weeks!” Sarah yelled, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s difficult to… come to terms sometimes,” you said, trying to come up with the best way to explain this to Sarah. “You have to tell him. Tonight!” Sarah exclaimed.

You hated to admit that she was right.

“I don’t know Sarah, he’s out on a job with your Uncle and…” “I will call him. Try me.”

You looked at her, unsure of her new aggressive demeanor. She was always a natural leader. “Sarah, this is serious.”

“I know.” she said simply, exiting the bathroom. You followed her, watching her like a hawk for the rest of the night. And the rest of the night consisted of you making dinner, ravioli. Sarah was in the kitchen and made her ooblek and when that was done she finished her homework.

  You sighed when the clock rang eight. He was more than late for supper. Sarah was asleep in your lap, the mindless cartoons played on. You watched them, trying to calm your anxious mind.

  You heard Tommy’s truck pull into the driveway and saw its headlights as he left the driveway. Sarah stirred a bit, but a simple smoothing of her hair soothed her back to sleep. Joel quietly made his way into the house, only noticing the two of you when he locked the door.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. You shrugged. Joel sat down next to you. “How is she? Is her homework done?”

  “Yup.” you said coldly. “Look Y/N, I’m sorry I was late but the hardware store was out of the screws we needed and Tommy’s car was having an issue so we had to stop and get some-”

You couldn’t listen to Joel’s rambling any longer. You frankly didn’t care about some damn screws. It had to be done, and it had to be done now. Sarah was right, he deserved to know.

  “I’m pregnant.”

Joel’s ramblings ended. A moment of silence lasted between the two of you. “Really?” he asked, a tiny awkward squeak coming from his voice at the end. “Mhm. Sarah found the tests. Under the sink, taped to the top of the cabinet if you want to see for yourself.”

Joel sat. “Huh,” he said, getting up from the couch and heading into the shared bathroom you guys had. He came back a moment later, his face was white as a sheet of paper.

  “Can we financially do this?” you whispered, knowing Sarah was well faking her sleep and listening. Joel shrugged, plopping back down next to you. He knew this was a big issue and it would have to be discussed later. They were doing well, but Joel knew firsthand a baby on a small income was expensive. “I’m happy, if you couldn’t tell.” he said, a little bit of hope rang in his tone. “I could. My reaction was the same.” you assured him. You rested your head on his shoulder. “Everything will be okay.” he said, entwining his fingers with yours. “How long have you known?”

You seethed. “Don’t kill me.” “Maybe,” he said flirtatiously. You loved when he still flirted with you, even though you had been together forever and you were his wife. “Three weeks.”

He sighed audibly. “How far along are you?” “Don’t kill me.” you reiterated. “I have no clue. I haven't even been to a doctor yet, Mandy’s horror stories are traumatizing enough.”

  “We’re making an appointment first thing tomorrow,” he assured you. You shook your head in agreement.

  “Does she know?” he whispered, looking down at his daughter. He was so excited to be able to give Sarah a sibling. His bond with Tommy was unmatchable. Even though there would be a significant age gap between them, he still loved his little brother like no other. Even if they were six years apart, they were close. “She’s the one who found the tests.” you quietly chuckled, reminding Joel of what you said earlier. “She was threatening to call you at work and ‘expose me’,” you told Joel. He rolled his eyes. “Jeez, that damn kid.” he smiled, giving Sarah’s fluffy hair a pat just like you did moments before. He brought his hand back to yours and moved the back of your hand up to his lips and kissed it. “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

“And our little family.” you added. “Yes, and our little family.” Joel confirmed.

(if this story was spaced weirdly, apologies)- tag list

@dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise @mxtokko​ @undeniableadrenaline @evyiione @qualitypudding @jmillerswife @kittenlittle24

#peterparkersnose #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller headcanon #joel miller fluff #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller pregnancy #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us fanfiction #troy baker #joel miller hbo #joel miller the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams #sarah miller

[heich0e]

"you know that's not how it works, right?"

atsumu and osamu's heads both snap up from where they're stooping over a paper schematic laid out before them, sitting cross-legged amidst a debris field of cardboard, styrofoam, and various wooden parts.

the sun streams in through the open window on the other side of the room, and little motes of dust that have been stirred up through the afternoon's excitement are caught in the light as they twist and spin through the air, fluttering slowly towards the ground. the breeze that slips in through the window is cool but refreshing, the smell of spring carried in on the edge of every wisp of air. you take a deep breath to savour it.

"whaddya mean?" atsumu asks, his brows—so much darker than the peroxide blonde of his hair, and the contrast even more stark since he's seated right in the sunlight that makes his hair practically glow—pinching together in the centre and expressing his confusion. osamu doesn't say anything, but his own expression is equally perplexed as he sits beside his noisy brother.

you laugh, taking a sip from your glass of water as you lean against the doorway.

"i said that's not how it works."

osamu's grey eyes flicker back down to the instruction manual in front of him, his lips pursing thoughtfully as he mulls over your comment.

you sigh, a little smile tugging at your lips. "samu, i'm not talking about the crib."

both brothers look up at you once more, now thoroughly confused by your interruption and wearing nearly identical expressions which convey that sentiment. you set your cup of cool water down on the chest of drawers just inside the doorway: an old wooden hand-me-down from their mother, who insisted you take it for the nursery and give it a second life in a new miya household. you pad into the room, approaching them both slowly as you carefully avoid the various pieces of disassembled crib that litter the floor, and crouch down to sit between them.

atsumu sees the way you struggle on your descent, still not quite used to the bump that has swollen at your waist and grows with every passing day, and he quickly reaches up to help you settle in between the two of them. you murmur quiet thanks, squeezing the blonde's hand with your own before you pull away.

once you've finally made yourself comfortable on the nursery floor, you huff. "what i meant was that's not how twins work."

you'd caught the tail end of the brothers' conversation as you passed by the doorway to the nursery—a casual but enthusiastic debate on whether or not you should be expecting one baby or two.

"yer gonna explain twins to us?" tsumu guffaws in the wake of your words, looking to his brother for solidarity in his indignation. samu's eyes instead flicker down to the bump of your stomach where your hand is resting.

"we're kinda the experts in the room y'know," osamu teases you, his gaze flickering up to meet yours. you roll your eyes.

"experts?" you parrot back incredulously. "says the guy who barely passed biology, and the one who's forgotten everything about high school other than volleyball scores and school lunch menus."

you point to atsumu and osamu respectively as you make your remarks.

"hey!" atsumu whines.

"i remember other stuff too," samu laughs a bit as he reaches up and ruffles the dark hair at the nape of his neck. you cock a brow as you lean in towards him.

"oh, yeah?" you challenge his assertion. "like what?"

"cute girls," osamu says as he turns his attention back to the assembly instructions on the floor before him, a cheeky smile tugging at his lips. you resist the urge to swat at the back of his head.

behind you, since you've turned your body to face his brother, atsumu pitches forward and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

"so, what was that about anyway? the twin thing?" he asks, muttering in a way that tells you he's got a pout on his lips even if you can't see it.

you lean back into atsumu slightly, watching as osamu picks up a piece of crib and turns it over in his hands to survey it, comparing it to the complicated illustration in the instruction manual.

"even though you two look so much alike, you're fraternal," you say, tilting your head to peek up at him through your lashes. "and your mom's mom was a fraternal twin too."

atsumu hums. you've not told him anything he doesn't already know. "s'genetic!"

"it is," you agree, running a hand over your stomach absentmindedly. "but the gene that makes you more likely to have twins has to do with ovulation. which means it has to affect the mother—and i have no twins in my family."

atsumu sucks in a sharp little breath that you can't help but think sounds a bit disappointed. osamu pauses in his instruction surveillance.

"besides," you remark, peeling yourself up from against atsumu's chest, "we already heard the baby's heartbeat, and there was definitely only one in there."

osamu looks over at you, pointing the mystery piece of crib in your direction. "our ma said the same thing, and still ended up with the two of us. careful whatcha say."

"she says i hid my heartbeat 'til the second trimester!" atsumu agrees with his brother, supporting his argument in a distinctly proud way—a wide grin stretching across his face.

"troublesome from the very beginning, huh?" you tease him, and he reaches up to pinch your cheek playfully in response.

"what about identical twins then?" osamu asks. "they genetic too?"

"no," you shake your head, atsumu's fingers still lightly holding the fat of your cheek and making your words come out a little funny. "they'a fweeks o'naytchor."

atsumu laughs, letting his grip on your face go. "freaks of nature?"

you rub at your stinging cheek with your fingers, glaring at him resentfully. "there's no real reason why identical twins happen. they shouldn't happen, by all accounts. but for one reason or another the fertilized egg decides it's going to split and basically clone itself even though it's not supposed to. that's weird."

"so, who has identical twins?" osamu asks, reaching up and running his thumb over the red mark his brother left on your poor cheek.

you purse your lips as you consider his question. "well... anyone could, i guess. in theory. there's no real rhyme or reason to it."

atsumu and osamu's eyes lock over your shoulder, and you can't help but noticed the look they share between them. the one that makes you want to groan aloud.

the one that clearly reads of hope.

#LOL sorry u guys can figure out who the father is bc the poll was split right down the middle #btw true confessions this is actually how i feel about identical twins..... that's just not right #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #tw pregnancy #tw parenthood

[tired-biscuit]

18+ mdni, fem!reader // cw: pregnancy, husband!bakugou, domestic comfort

bakugou changes after he finds out you're pregnant.

it's mostly for the better. he's attentive and kind in that rugged sort of way only he can make work, as well as surprisingly tolerant and patient. he cooks for you, carries you up the stairs whenever you're feeling too lazy for it, satisfies your weird cravings, and insists that he do most of the chores whenever his job allows him to - vacuuming the house is always done on sundays because of that reason alone.

the dad-to-be even endures all of your ups and downs; trying to appease you in whichever way he can, whilst you continue to grow and carry your future little bundle of joy inside of your belly. even most of the hormone-induced emotional outbursts and tantrums that tend to overtake your sound state of mind from time to time are taken care of and sailed across pretty smoothly because of his sudden change in demeanor. it's great - for the most part.

but above all that, bakugou also becomes careful.

during sex especially.

actually, now that you think about it, the once ravenous brute that your husband used to be - the one with a foul vocabulary you'd constantly snicker at whenever it came out to play, and the fierce eyes that paired so well with that signaturely feral grin you rarely get to see nowadays - now turns completely wary whenever you feel in the mood as of late.

safe to say, it's pretty peculiar. however, you're not quite sure yet if it's the good kind or not.

because even now, as you sit on his lap completely naked; with your skin dewy from sweat and the baby bump barely showing, his hands are still calloused and rough to the touch, yes, but are also awfully gentle as they wrap around the curve of your hips. slow and unsure whilst stroking you, they remind you nothing of the near death-grip he had once used on you to leave your skin bruising with passion until the early hours of the morning.

no, instead, this particular touch is so feather-light that it feels like it's more of the phantom kind. and to be completely honest, that 'barely there' feeling is beginning to drive you nuts.

and not in a good way.

especially because he's got that soft look in his eyes, now. the one that you love, of course you do, but for which you're just not in the mood for right now. it's the one that makes him treat you like fragile glass instead of his woman; that makes him make love to you like you're an inexperienced virgin despite the fact that you're literally carrying his child and that he's managed to bend you over nearly every flat surface inside your cozy home during the course of your relationship.

it's the look that makes you want to anger him just so you can get fucked by him all mean and raw like he'd done back then; with you bent over those exact flat surfaces, or rather splayed wide open on top of them. the one that makes you yearn to bounce on his cock with all your might and fervour just so you could prove him wrong.

however much to your dismay, he doesn't let you do that; of course he doesn't. no, to make matters even worse, he's not even allowing you to take his dick in its glorious entirety anymore. instead, he reckons that a little over half of it should do just fine to soothe your needs.

from his perspective, it's looking out for your wellbeing. from yours, it's pure bullshit.

so as you wrap your arms around his neck and sneakily attempt to get a pass at fully sitting down onto him by tugging onto his hair, you're disappointed to feel his hands slide downwards just as fast; right to the underside of your thighs. because just like you, he's pulled the same move. the same tricks.

still, you moan prettily as he stops you by grabbing handfuls of the plush flesh and gently spreads your cheeks apart, making you shiver from the shortly-lived stimulation nonetheless. you watch with tired eyes as his biceps flex, oh, so deliciously when he uses force to make you halt just a few inches from accepting his entire length.

the ripple of muscle is almost like torture for your feral state of mind.

you lick your lips as you tug on his hair again and whisper, "kat-"

he closes his eyes for a second at the touch before he opens them again. his pupils are so big by the time he looks at you properly.

"mm-mm." it's all he offers now. still, a small smirk ghosts over his lips when you pout and consequently begin to glare at him because of the denial.

fucker.

"but-"

"nah." he shakes his head this time, a twinkle of mischief and caring; such deep, profound caring dancing in his eyes as he looks up at you.

"but, i-i-" you sigh, breath quivering when he readjusts on the couch and unintentionally pushes deeper inside of you by a mere inch as a result. both of you seem to have trouble biting back the groans of pleasure climbing up your throats as you add, "...i wanna."

"so?" he pauses, his cheeks dusting pink. "we've been over this... you know what my answer is gonna be."

"kat, c'mon," you repeat, blinking in a way that makes your eyelashes flutter all endearing-like, "please?"

"no."

"pretty please?" you pout again, bottom lip jutting out cutely, the gears in your head turning. "i wanna be pounded properly this time. by you; my amazing husband..." you take a second to stroke the stiff column in the side of his neck as you watch his adam's apple bob, "my big, strong pro hero."

his pupils dilate again. you're so close to winning, you can nearly taste the victory on the tip of your tongue as you feel his fingers twitch just like his dick does, and his hips falter before they push slightly upwards.

so close, you're so close; he just needs a little-

"jesus christ, let me have this, woman... just this, c'mon." he grunts in protest all of a sudden, his voice straining slightly when you wiggle your hips to try and persuade him further. he holds you steady now, his grip strictly solid again. "i already do everything else exactly the way you want me to... can't ya just go easy on me, at least for this one thing?"

you blink, your purpose forgotten. "what on earth do you mean by that?"

and he rolls his eyes. "what on earth do you mea- well i don't know, who else had to go to the fucking mini-market at 3am yesterday, just 'cause someone was craving a weirdly specific brand of bananas?"

"well, that's not fair," you quip back in an instant, brow furrowing. your tummy tingles because his cock is literally throbbing inside of you, but you still gather enough focus to stand your ground. "as far as i know, i didn't ask you to go get them."

"no, you just moped around and kept doing that little sigh thing - the one that you know damn well drives me absolutely fuckin' crazy, by the way, until i got out of bed and drove there like some goddamn circus monkey of yours."

a beat of silence passes between you at that.

"circus monkey?" a pause. "really, katsuki?"

"shut up... it's 'cause of the stupid bananas."

you want to laugh now and so does he, you can tell by the consistent twitch at the corner of his mouth. but you're both just so stubborn. unyielding.

childish, like the baby you're carrying will surely be.

"well, i-" his fingers dig deeper into your skin the moment you open your mouth to tell him off again, his blunt nails burrowing themselves into the softness as you yelp and press your palms against his chest to try and stabilize yourself.

"we're doing this my way." he smiles up at you, showing you his teeth. "okay?"

"whatever." your eye roll is dramatic as ever before you stick your tongue out at him. "you're mean."

his eyes glimmer at the jab. the red shade is so rich that it makes your heart beat faster. especially when he purrs, "i thought you liked that about me, baby?"

"oh, you little- mmph!"

he pulls you in for a kiss before you can even begin to object again.

better luck next time.

#bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #biscuit drabbles #cw pregnancy #bnha smut #tw pregnancy

[rose-tinted-glasses671]

Let The Light In pt. 2

Simon "Ghost Riley" x fem reader

word count: 3757

read pt. 1

a/n: yayyyyy! pt. 2 is finally out. After a lot of editing, i'm pretty happy with the final result, and I hope you guys are too. happy reading :)

The smoke from the cigarette billowed out of in front of him, Simon’s nerves relaxing as the nicotine coursed through his veins. This was his one vice that you didn’t like, and especially with the baby on the way, he tried to limit himself as much as he could.

But it was hard sometimes. Most of the time.

The sun peeked up from the horizon and the smell of morning dew wafted over Simon as he took another drag of the cigarette before grinding it out on the ash tray he brought outside.

You looked through the kitchen window, seeing Simon’s broad back to you. He had abruptly woken up while you were getting ready for work and was out of the room before you could ask what was wrong.

You suspected he’d had another nightmare, so you were giving him his space to process it before you went to him. You understood when he needed time to himself, and you didn’t want to smother him. He’d let it be known when he needed you.

Simon stared out at the beautiful array of colors in the sky, contemplating his dream. He had frequent nightmares thanks to his PTSD, but this one was particularly rough. He’d seen visions of Harper, visions he would never wish upon his worst enemy.

Blood, so much blood. Red, red, red. On the walls, on the floor, on his hands. Tears streaking down his face. His little girl’s pleas for help. But he couldn’t do anything. He was utterly helpless.

Simon’s breath grew shaky as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.

He had woken up in a panic at 4:30 am, the visceral nightmare making his breathing choppy. He’d immediately went and checked on Harper, seeing her peacefully asleep in her bed, her chest rising and falling with her soft breaths. His heart calmed at the sight of her safe, but the visions continued to haunt him. Hence the cigarette.

As you gathered your stuff to head to the hospital, Simon walked in through the back door. He looked at you with sleepy yet alert eyes, his hair disheveled from sleep. He walked toward you and you met him halfway, wrapping your arms around his torso in a hug the best you could with your eight months pregnant belly in the way.

“Nightmare?” you questioned, feeling him nod his head as his arms came around you too.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Simon replied, his voice gruff. He wasn’t ready to rehash the details.

You reluctantly let go of him, running a soothing hand down his arm.

“I can call in and stay with you,” you offered, wanting to be there in case he needed you. “I have a good excuse since my due date’s coming up.”

But Simon shook his head no, giving you a small, reassuring smile.

“Okay, but you’ll call if you need me?”

“Of course,” he said, appreciating that you didn’t press him on the matter.

You and Simon made your way to the door, kissing goodbye before you left on your forty-five-minute drive to work. You lived on a relatively secluded farmhouse in the British countryside, and the nearest town was a good drive away. You didn’t mind, though, as the sights made it worth it.

After your departure, Simon went about his day, preparing for Harper’s teacher to come at 9. She was still getting accustomed to life, so you and Simon had decided to have Harper homeschooled for the time being. You would eventually transition her to a nearby school when she was ready.

It was discovered that Harper was an orphan, her birth parents having died when she was just a baby. When Simon found this out, you and he had a lengthy conversation about the options. Obviously, she would go up for adoption, but Harper was already doing so well with you guys, and you didn’t want to disrupt her life even more by having her put in foster care. So, you decided to adopt her.

The process was still ongoing, even after four months, but you were excited at the prospect of her officially being your daughter—not that you didn’t already think she was. She was, by all means, your child.

Simon turned on the TV, attempting to ease his nerves by catching up on last night’s Manchester United that he had missed. A steaming cup of his favorite tea sat on the coffee table as he tried to shift his focus to the game highlights, but his mind continued to wander to the nightmare.

At fifteen past seven, he heard little footsteps coming down the stairs. Harper walked over to where Simon was seated on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a mess and her PJ’s were askew, signaling that she’d had a good night’s rest.

It was something she struggled with when she first started living with you and Simon, but months of therapy was putting her on the right track, and she was having less and less episodes with each passing week.

“Good morning, my sweet girl,” Simon said as Harper approached him, holding his arms open. She crawled into his lap and found a comfortable position before relaxing into him, her cheek resting against his chest in a way that still gave her a view of the TV. She rather enjoyed watching football with her dad, laughing every time Simon groaned at a bad play and cheering with him for every goal.

“Sleep good?” Simon questioned, to which she nodded her head. Harper still had trouble speaking, her therapist telling you she suffered from selective mutism. Your heart ached at the thought of all the trauma she had been through to get to this point, but you were relieved that she was making good progress.

After twenty minutes of mindless TV, Harper looked up at Simon, patting her belly.

“All right then,” Simon said, letting Harper get down before he got to his feet. “Let’s get some food in ya.”

At the hospital, you clocked in for your shift and got about to business, tidying up your desk, which was often scattered with papers and pens due to the craziness of the ER. You chatted with nurses, looked over patient files, treated those in need, and took frequent breaks due to sore feet and a weak bladder.

The day was going by normally, the ER a little quiet today, thankfully. Well, it was going normally until about 1:23 pm. You were heading back to the nurses’ station after checking in on a patient when all of a sudden you were assaulted by a searing pain in your abdomen and lower back. You breathed through it, huffing out short breaths in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

“You okay, Dr. Riley?” Amanda, the head ER nurse, asked at the look of pain on your face.

“Oh yeah, nothing of concern,” you reassured, but just as quickly as the pain had subsided, it resurfaced. This time you were left hunched over and feeling nauseous, and not even a minute later, you felt wetness seep through your scrub pants, fluid gathering in a pool underneath you.

You looked at the pool of fluid, dazed and confused. But only for a second, because you quickly realized what was happening.

“Um, actually, Amanda, if you wouldn’t mind bringing me that wheelchair?” you pointed to the corner where the contraption sat. “I think my water just broke.”

Simon was sitting at the kitchen counter, catching up on reports while Harper and her teacher went about their lesson at the dining table, when his phone rang. Your name flashed across the screen.

“It’s time,” your pained voice reverberated across the phone. “The baby’s coming.”

In an instant, Simon was out of his chair. “Right now?”

“Yes, Simon. Right now,” you wailed, before the line went dead.

“Shit,” he muttered, making his way to the dining room.

“We have to go,” he grunted out to the teacher before getting down on a knee in front of Harper. “Mommy’s having the baby now, so we have to go to the hospital.”

You and Simon had sat Harper down a couple weeks ago to let her know how things would go when her sibling was arriving. It helped reduce her anxiety about the situation, and really, it was just good to be prepared.

As Harper’s teacher made her way out of the house, Simon frantically ran around gathering up the go-bags, his excitement and fear skyrocketing through the roof.

It’s time, your voice echoed through his head. His heart beat at a concerning pace, but he busied himself with tasks to keep the panic at bay. He dialed your sister’s number to let her know in case you hadn’t gotten the chance to call her.

“I’m on my way to the hospital right now,” your sister said in lieu of a greeting, understanding how overwhelmed he probably felt right now. She lived in town so she’d get there sooner than he would and would be able to help while Simon drove there.

He blew out a quick breath of relief.

“Thank you.” And then he was out of the house with Harper.

Like a bat out of hell, Simon sped—reasonably—down the winding roads and onto the main highway that would take him to his destination.

He sporadically checked on Harper, only to see her peaceful gaze on the views outside the window. At least she wasn’t panicking. He’d take any win he could get at this point.

Once at the hospital, Simon zoomed into a parking spot and jumped out the vehicle, almost forgetting to turn it off. He grabbed Harper and the bags, and they both ran inside, stopping to a halt at the front desk.

“Maternity ward,” Simon said, more as a demand than a question. The lady at the desk jumped at the sudden intrusion, but let Simon know the floor.

At the ward, Simon inquired about your room with the head nurse, letting her know he was your husband, then went to find your sister.

“Lily!” he practically yelled at the sight of her dark hair in the waiting room, catching her attention.

“Hey,” she replied, frantically approaching the bedraggled duo, holding her daughter’s hand. “I’ll take Harper, you go. It’s room-”

“I know. Thank you.” Simon then turned his attention to his daughter, getting down to her eye level. “Hey, baby girl. Dad’s gonna go look after mum now, okay. You think you can stay with your aunt and cousin for now?” he asked, making sure Harper felt comfortable with her new surroundings. But she barely listened to him as she absentmindedly nodded her head, engrossed in what her cousin Nina was showing her on her iPad.

Simon gave a Harper a quick kiss before turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.

2408…2410…2412…2414. This is the one.

Although the hallway was in no way quiet, Simon particularly homed in on your pained howls echoing through the closed door. He noticed his hand shaking as he went to open the door, reminding himself to take a deep breath to steady his nerves.

As soon as he entered the hospital room, he was met with the sight of you lying in bed, your face red and in agony. His eyes instantly met yours, as they often did. You could be in a room with a million other people, and somehow, he’d always notice you first.

At the sight of your husband, you broke down. You were so instantly calmed by his presence that it overwhelmed you.

“Are you the dad?” the OB asked sweetly, to which Simon nodded his head. “Perfect! Mom over here was very distressed at your absence.”

He scurried by your side, and as soon as he was in reaching distance, you leaned up a little and wrapped your arms around him. No words were able to leave you, not just because of the pain but also at the relief of him finally being here.

“I got you, my love,” Simon whispered into your ear, slowly easing you back into the bed.

“Okay, so it looks like your about 5 cm dilated right now,” the OB said. “I’ll be back to check on you, but at this rate, you should be able to deliver soon.”

The next hour was a whirlwind, nurses traipsing in and out, Simon’s surroundings a blur of wires and beeps and huffing breaths. When it came time for you to finally deliver, you felt your anxiety coming to a head.

“I’m scared,” you cried, gripping onto Simon’s hand like a lifeline.

“I know, my love. I know,” he cooed, keeping his tone a lot more relaxed than he actually felt. “This is scary for me too. But, hey, it’s gonna be over soon, and then we’ll have a little bugger to take home with us.”

You tried to laugh, tried to let the picture of your little baby in your arms calm you down, but the panic overtaking you didn’t allow that. Deep breaths weren’t going to cut it this time.

Simon noticed this, seeing the fear still glowing in your eyes. He pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, that sweet smell of vanilla that always seemed to follow you overtaking his senses. He had to make sure you were okay.

“I am with you every step of the way,” Simon said. “You wanna scream? Scream. You wanna squeeze my hand ‘till it breaks…well, you can try,” he joked with a teasing smirk. “Whatever you need, I will give it you. I’ll take care of you.”

You nodded your head, knowing that every word Simon just said was true. He had never once let you down, and he was a man of his words. Your anxiety wouldn’t fade right away, but you’d let your husband’s comfort overtake you until it did. It’s the most you could hope for.

And after an amount of time neither you nor Simon could gauge, you’d finally given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. You had cried with the unending happiness and love when you finally got to hold your daughter, Simon right alongside you as he gazed at his daughter’s beautiful face, and then at yours.

When the nurse had taken her away and told you her weight, you and Simon had laughed. At 4.2 kilograms, she was a little bigger than normal, and the irony wasn’t lost on you. She was, after all, Simon Riley’s daughter.

Back in the recovery room, Simon brought Harper in to meet her sister and was pleasantly surprised at how easily she took to her. You let Harper sit on your bed as you cradled your baby, letting her play with her and take in the new addition to the family.

Harper was beyond excited, if not a little nervous, about her baby sister. But she was gentle and immediately took on a big sister role, much to your delight.

This moment was one for the books. For the longest time, you were Simon’s only family, the only one he could trust and confide in. But now, he had more than he ever imagined he could have.

“Baby cousin!” Nina’s shriek echoed through the room, none of you noticing that her and Lily had come in.

“Okay, now. Be gentle. She’s sleeping,” Lily said to her daughter, following after her. At the sight of your newborn baby, Lily let out an adoring sigh, looking at you with tear filled eyes. “She’s so perfect, bee,” she said, using your childhood nickname.

“I know,” you replied, getting just as emotional as her. “I can’t stop looking at her.”

The baby had blonde hair just like Simon’s, and her small button nose and chubby cheeks were the most adorable thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“Takes after Simon, doesn’t she?” Lily remarked.

“Cheeky,” he said, but secretly loving the fact.

“Sure does,” you stated, secretly loving the fact too. She was a perfect little piece of you and Simon, a testament to your love and commitment to each other.

Much of the day passed with family and friends trickling in and out, sharing in this happy moment with you. And although Simon tried not to let any negativity seep into this joyous moment, he couldn’t help but feel the stinging pain of loss at the absence of his own family.

It was often a hard pill to swallow, the fact that his mother, brother, even his nephew, were gone. That they’d never be able to share happy moments with him again.

But when his baby girl had opened her eyes for the first time, they were hazel. A striking, mesmerizing hazel that were so familiar to him, it almost brought him to his knees. Neither you nor Simon had hazel eyes, but obviously it had skipped a generation.

It was like his mother had sent a piece of her down to him, something for him to take solace in and to know that she would always be with him. That was also the moment you had known what you were going to name your daughter.

That night, when darkness kissed the sky and crickets chirped outside the open window, you broached the subject with Simon.

“What if we named her Margaret?” you asked him as he held the baby to his chest, taking in that newborn scent.

Simon paused in his pacing to look at you, seeing the sincerity on your face. His heart burst like a dam, the emotions he had been holding back flooding to the surface.

And you knew the answer just by the sheen in his eyes.

***

Later that night, when you and the baby were fast asleep, Simon didn’t dare to close his eyes. He gazed at your serene face, a little jealous of how your dreams never tormented you, but at the same time relieved that you didn’t have to go through what he did. Visions of his nightmare mixed with the memory of his daughter’s birth and the liveliness of the room as people came to see her.

His tired eyes drooped, and he was happy. He was so goddamn happy, but he was also restless. And scared.

Would he be able to protect all of you? Would he ever feel normal? Would his trauma continue to burden him, and inadvertently put that burden on you?

What Simon didn’t realize was that you were restless too, your anxiety from before morphing into something else. Anxiety about the future, about raising your daughters, about…everything, it felt like.

You opened your eyes, ready to accept that fact that you wouldn’t sleep tonight, when you noticed Simon sitting up on the couch to your right.

“Si?” You sat up in bed, reaching your hand out to call him over. He complied, coming over to you. He sat at the edge of your bed, a hesitant look on his face. “You okay?”

Simon considered lying. Considered telling you he wasn’t plagued with so many negative emotions so close to the miracle that happened today, because they weren’t supposed to. Right?

“No.” He settled on the truth instead. “I mean, yes. But also no, in many ways.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” you said, reaching up to cup his cheek. You ran your thumb across it, the feeling of his slight stubble something you’d never stop loving.

He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“I don’t know,” he sighed, straightening himself. “I feel like I should be happier. I am happy, don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy. But I can’t stop thinking about the nightmare.” He described what he saw to you, how he felt helpless. “I’ll never be enough. Nothing I do will ever be a 100% guarantee that you and Harper and Margaret are safe.”

You stared into Simon’s eyes, feeling the anguish radiating off of him.

“Simon, you are enough. You’re more than enough. You are so much more than your ability to keep us safe. A loving husband, a doting father, and most of all, a human being. You have to give yourself a break.” You slid over on the bed, indicating for him to sit beside you. He did so, maneuvering himself to give you ample space.

You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne. “It’s okay to feel doubt. God knows I do. It feels like I go through everyday not knowing what the fuck I’m doing. Every moment I spend with Harper is a moment that’s tainted with the fear that I’m doing her more harm than good.”

“You’re amazing with her,” Simon interjected. “You’re exactly the kind of patient and adoring presence she needs.”

“And so are you, Si. Don’t think for a second that you’re not just as patient with her.” You looked up at him to see him already looking at you. “Who’s been the one to guide Harper through her panic attacks, or plan her lessons with her teacher, or take care of her when I’m not home? It’s all been you. You care about her so much, and she sees that. She loves you.”

Simon contemplated, thinking back to a couple weeks ago when Harper had woken up in the middle of night screaming. Both your hearts had stopped, thinking something horrible was happening. As it was, Harper had had a bad dream, not unlike the ones Simon himself experienced. She was shaking like a leaf and refused to let either of you touch her, and Simon had been the one to help her through the panic attack and calm her down.

“A lot of things are out of our control. But what is in our control is what we do and what we say. It’s a lot of faith to put in ourselves, but that’s what we gotta do,” you shrugged. “Everything else is arbitrary.”

Simon relaxed into you, taking in your words. You were right, you rarely ever weren’t.

When Margaret started crying, he brought her to you, and gazed in wonder as you fed and comforted her. You whispered sweet words to her and held her close, and when she finally went back to sleep, Simon decided he would take this newfound joy he felt because of his family and pocket it. Relive that feeling when nothing else made sense. And he would never stop trying his hardest.

#simon riley #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghost #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod #mw2 #pregnancy drabble #x female reader #x fem reader

[kentosbabes]

Hi darling, can I request Nanami going absolutely feral for his pregnant wife? Always rubbing her bump even before it was showing, doing literally everything so she doesn't lift a single finger, helping her keep her hormones balanced, foot massages, rubbing oil on her belly, I leave it to from there fghjk

YES!! ofc daddy nanami is a moment 🤷🏽‍♀️

Nanami loves cooking your pregnancy cravings, no matter how weird they may seem to him, he doesn’t care. He just heads into the kitchen and fixes it up for you. “Thank you darling, I know it’s difficult right now, I just wanna help you.”

Nanami is more attentive than usual, cooking you breakfast in bed, buying you flowers every morning to spruce up the house. He loves buying you clothes, watching you wear what he picked out for you makes him really happy.

Nanami loves fucking you, ever since reading that it helps with the pain of birth. He tells you every time, that he’s just being helpful. He ensures you get your pleasure first, eating you out while holding your hand.

Nanami loves to buy baby clothes, despite not even knowing the gender, “it’s not a waste of money if it’s for my two most important people, my wife and baby.”

Nanami’s wandering hands kneads into your lower back. Since you are always complaining about it hurting, you start to melt in Nanami’s large hands whilst he massages it.

Nanami applies stretch cream on your tummy, littering your neck and collarbone with kisses whilst he does it. He’s hands being cooler are refreshing for you.

Nanami is a gentlemen, even more so whilst you are pregnant. Watching you doing the smallest of things like opening door sets him off and he must open the next one. But most of all he loves carrying you around, hearing you giggle and playful tell him to put him down makes him feel good.

Nanami is super understanding when he hears you in the morning with sickness. He immediately gets up and brings you water , rubbing your back and praising you, “You’re so good, such a good girl.” He just gets really nervous when you get sick, but he doesn’t show it to you because you are his number one priority for him.

Nanami watches pregnancy youtube blogs like what to pack in your hospital bag and pregnancy journey videos. You’ve caught him actually making notes on the videos.

Nanami thinks you look really cute waddling, you find it awkward but he thinks it’s adorable. Calling you his penguin and picking you up bridal style.

Nanami hates going to work now, you both agreed that it would be good for him to continue going to work until you’ve given birth and then go on paternity leave. That doesn’t mean he likes going to work, he hated spending time away from you and now he hates it even more.

Nanami take to you tummy, even if he thinks you’re asleep. He reads whatever book is on his bedside or just talks to the baby about his day or how much he can’t wait for him to get here.

Nanami is terrified for you. Watching and reading as much pregnancy content to be prepared has made him even more scared for the birth itself. He actually almost fainted when he got the call at work, running to the car and speeding to get to the hospital on time.

Masterlist

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk headcanons #kentosbabes #kento nanami #nanami headcanons #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami imagine #nanami kento drabble #nanami kento headcanons #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #pregnancy

[stararch4ngelqueen]

I have such huge respect for the artists of these comics. He looks so fucking gorgeous, TOO gorgeous.

I want him to call me trash then take me out 💕🌝😭

#I wanna eat him tf up #too delicious #jason todd #dc jason todd #dc comics #mindlessly doing a pregnancy Drabble then got this #i must be ovulating #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader

[joelsgreys]

flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner. 

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair. 

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?” 

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten. 

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home. 

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains. 

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: snapshots

[jarofstyles]

since we’re talking abt dadrry… what abt dadrry breeding kink🥸maybe where he wants another baby🥸🥸🥸🥸

This is extremely late... hey... but here is a snippet hehe

Check out our Patreon for exclusive writings and early access.

obvious breeding kink warning lol

---

"Give me another." The words were panted right into her ear, making her shudder. From behind he filled her over and over with each thrust, laying on the bed so he could get as close as humanly possible.

"Huh?" Her fucked out mind needed clarification, her second orgasm about to fall over the edge. Harry had put their toddler down to nap and dragged her into their room, their precious quiet time disrupted by his needy ways. She never minded.

"Another baby." He whispered. "Let me give you another. Miss seeing you pregnant, miss having a little baby, need to give you more." His words were akin to whines, fucking into her nice and deep. She understood now, his motivation for this position. He had been hinting for a bit but never outright asked- and Y/N wasn't opposed.

"mm'kay." She spread her legs a bit further, allowing him to get deeper, making the both of them moan. Harry was determined, hissing under his breath as he began to go a bit harder.

"Yeah? Gonna let me fuck a baby into you, darling?" He grinned, gently wrapping a hand around her throat. "Just lay here and let me do the hard work. My perfect girl. Gonna give you another baby, gonna knock you up." He slurred, turning her face so he could kiss her hard.

Y/N nodded, inhaling sharply when he released her mouth. Her head bowed further, burying into the pillows as weak little whimpers escaped with the thrusts. This was his job, and she was doing hers. Letting him take her and give her the baby the both wanted.

"Perfect, perfect fuckin' girl. Jus' let me breed you. Cunt's begging for it, gonna give it all my load." removing his hand from her throat he placed it on shoulder, rutting into her. "Such a good mumma... need to give us some more babies to spoil."

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[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty-Five: Joel Miller + Pregnancy

Your belly wasn't huge just yet. Four months along and you were growing more beautiful by the day. Joel was scared at first when you told him that you were pregnant. Then all that feared melted away into happiness. A deep seeded happiness he hadn't felt in a long time. Not to say that you didn't make him happy, Joel just never thought he'd get the chance again.

You'd grown fuller in the days leading up to the fourth month of your pregnacy. Your hips a little bit wider, shirt a little bit tighter that were already opting to borrow Joels much looser shirts.

The thing that Joel loved the most about your pregnancy so far had been the way your breasts had only grown along side your belly.

Joel would lay next to you almost every morning. His head pressed into the soft plush breasts that had become his new pillows over the past few months.

This morning was like no other, Joel's black curls tickling your exposed skin as the morning sun fluttered in through moth eaten curtains. Your arm wrapped around the older man in a gently, and doting way. You didn't dare move as not to stir the man awake.

You just watched as his body moved up and down with every long and deep breathe he took. His head once again rested in the valley of your breasts. You moved your hand slightly in an effort to comb through the black curls that were peppered with grey.

"Good mornin' sweetheart." Joels morning voice is a mix of just the right amount of texas drawl, and rusty morning voice and it makes you heat up instantly. "Mornin' baby." Continuing to stare down at Joel, "You know starin' is rude." You roll your eyes.

Joel moves ever so slightly to get a bit more comfortable. "Look at that belly of yours." Joel loves the way you look, and loves it even more now that you have started wearing his clothes. Right now though is his favorite. Your naked body under a thin layer of sheet. You're beautiful, and everything to him.

You can feel the hard on Joel is sporting as it presses into your thigh. He ruts into your plushy thighs a few times absent mindly. 'So pretty in the mornin' baby. Did you know that?" He asks, you hum closing your eyes. As Joel starts to caress his hands up and down your body. Doing circles on your protruding belly.

"Ya did? I think I'll tell you again just how much I love your body." Joel whispers into your skin. His hands are getting ever so closer to your heat. You can't help but want to lure him in, so you spread your legs open.

"Are you trying to seduce me darlin'?" Joel asks, sounding more awake by the second. "Maybe." You tease, he eyes you for a moment longer before reaching down between your open thighs. Collect two fingers worth of slick. When he brings his hand from between your legs. You watch as he archs a brow, and then sticks his fingers into his mouth.

Moaning around them, "Taste so sweet for me baby." He murmurs. Joels shifts once again. His elbow digging into the bed, giving him a better advantage as he take a nipple into his mouth. He sucks on the bud bringing it to life as then he starts to divide his attention. His mouth plays with your tit, and his hand plays with your clit.

Wet fingers playing and teasing your clit sends shotting nevers up and down your back. Moans hit the twenty plus year old walls in the small apartment. When Joel slips two of his longest fingers into you, your wet walls pull him in. He pulls off of your harden, and redden nipple with a smirk. "So fuckin' tight sweetheart. God I fuckin' love it." His hips rut into yours, as you feel his hard on pulse againt you.

"I can feel you pulsing agasint my fingers, you turned on by just my mouth, and fingers baby?" It's not really a question to be answered, Joel already knows that answer. As he continues to finger you, your head falling back into the pillow. Legs starting to twitch, Joel can see all that you're right on the edge.

Your breathing picks up, your legs start to shake harder then ever before. Your toes curl as your walls tighten around Joels fingers. "There's you go sweetness, cum all over my fingers baby. Do it for me." He doesn't need to coax you but you fall over the edge at his words.

Once again moans boucnes on the wall, and your thigh feels sticky. Joel doesn't take long to get up cleaning up his mess on him, and your thigh before taking care of you. A water for you to sip on. "Damn hot mama." He says as he walks stark naked back into the room. Holding that water in his hands. "You're so beautiful baby." He says as he lays back down in his spot.

Completed on: 08/14/23

Posted on: 10/25/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

The Last Of Us Master list // Kinktober '23

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